


Ricochet

by Builder



Series: Powers/No Powers Choose-Your-Own-Adventure [24]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Laura Barton, Friendship, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: As luck would have it, the day Bucky decides he's going to ask for help, Steve is sick too.  It's a good thing he has Laura to call on.





	Ricochet

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt from tumblr. Find me @Builder051

 

Bucky opens the front door with his eyes shut.  “Sorry,” he mutters, reaching out blindly.

 

“No, it’s ok,” Laura, says, taking Bucky’s hand between hers and stepping over the threshold.  “I’m glad you called.” She locks the door behind her. 

 

Bucky rubs his furrowed brow against his stump shoulder.  “I just...I…” He breaks off with a halfhearted shrug. Laura isn’t sure if he’s just feeling sick or if he’s losing the ability to articulate.  Either way, he needs to be lying down.

 

“You don’t have to say anything.”  Laura squeezes his hand. “Let’s go upstairs, ok?  I think you’ll feel better in your bed.”

 

Bucky squints at her through his lashes.  “I...ok.”

 

“Ok.  Come on.”  

 

Bucky’s coordination is gone, and he leans on Laura’s arm as they ascend to the second floor.  “Alright. Here.” Laura pulls down the quilt and fluffs the pillows before Bucky collapses onto the bed.  He lets out his breath, and the whole mattress seems to sink an inch or so. 

 

Laura brushes his hair off his forehead, then presses the backs of her knuckles to his cheek.  No fever. It’s a good sign. “Have you had ibuprofen or anything? Or I could get you a cup of coffee.  That might help.” she asks.

 

“No…” Bucky breathes.  “I...don’t feel good.”

 

“Like sick to your stomach?”  She doesn’t need to ask. The set of his mouth says it all.

 

“...yeah…”

 

“James, it’s ok.  I’ll bring you a trash can.  Or if you want to go sit in the bathroom, I’ll help you do that.”  She smooths the covers over his chest. “If you decide you want some water or something, just tell me.”

 

“Hm.  Ok.” Bucky’s throat works harder than seems necessary to say the simple words.

 

“You did the right thing.  I want to be here and know you’re taken care of.”

 

Bucky doesn’t answer.  He just swallows hard. 

 

Laura takes the trashcan from the ensuite and places it beside the bed.  “Bin’s right here. Just in case,” she says. Bucky looks like he’s fighting not to gag.  Laura can only imagine the increased strain it would put on his head. “I’m gonna stay here for a little bit,” she whispers, sitting down on the floor with her back against the wall.  

 

“You...you don’t…”  Bucky’s words are lost in a sick noise that’s part retch, part hiccup.  

 

“It’s ok,” Laura says hurriedly, jumping back to her feet to help him find the trashcan over the edge of the bed.  Barely anything comes up. He probably hasn’t eaten. Laura makes a mental note to watch out for dehydration. 

 

Once he’s done, Bucky flops to his back and throws his arm over his eyes.  

 

“Here, I’ll close the curtains for you.  You sure you don’t want me to bring you anything?”

 

“No,” Bucky murmurs.

 

“Alright.”  Laura goes back to her place against the wall.

 

After half an hour or so, Bucky’s breaths go measured and slow.  It seems he’s finally fallen asleep. Laura tiptoes across the room and takes the bag out of the trash.  There’s barely a dribble of bile at the bottom of it, but it still smells sour. It’s not a pleasant thing to wake up to.  She glances at Bucky, his arm still half-covering his face, and decides he’ll be alright for a while.

 

Laura throws out the bag downstairs, then fills a glass with water and pulls a box of saltines from the pantry.  She’s putting a filter in the coffeemaker when Bucky’s phone starts buzz from the middle of the kitchen table. Laura peers at it, and she sees Steve’s name flashing on the display.  She glances in the direction of the stairs, then grabs the phone and answers it.

 

“Hey, this is Laura,” she says.

 

“Oh.  Um, it’s Steve…”

 

Laura chuckles.  “I figured.” She pauses a second, then says, “James called a couple hours ago.  He has a migraine and didn’t want to disturb you at work.” She feels a little guilty, knowing that Bucky called her rather than Steve, but she also knows Steve gets it.  And he’s as happy as she is just to know Bucky’s asking for help when he needs it.

 

“Oh, geez,” Steve sighs.  He’s a little muffled, like he has his hand over his face.  

 

“You ok?” Laura asks.

 

“I, well, I was calling to tell Buck I’m gonna head home early.  I think half the office is out with some kind of bug, and my stomach’s been kind of off since this morning…”  He trails off, sounding embarrassed.

 

“Oh, it’s going around,” Laura says lightly.  “I think Clint had it last week. Don’t tell him I said it, but I bet he infected the whole department.”

 

“I’ll keep quiet.”  Steve laughs quietly until he cuts out with a gulp.

 

“I’m sorry you’re feeling sick.”  Laura turns serious again. “Come on home.  I’ve definitely got room for one more in the sick bay.”

 

“I...thanks,” Steve mutters.  “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

 

“You’d get along alright, I’m sure.”  Laura holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder and gets a second glass from the cupboard.  “But water and saltines are ready when you get in.”

 

“Thank you,” Steve says again.  “I’ll see you soon. Both of you.”


End file.
